


Like A Moth To A Flame

by BlueEyedArcher



Series: Mothman Jonny [1]
Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack Treated Seriously, Cryptozoology, Fluff and Humor, Geoffrey better hide the maple syrup, He Did Not Sign Up For This, I believe, M/M, Metamorphosis, Muteness, Priwen are a group of Cryptid Hunters (the fun kind), molting, mothman au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Now, when Geoffrey imagined himself discovering the existence of something other and unique to humanity, he had imagined it with more finesse and extravagance, a bit more grandeur maybe? Was that too much to ask for? Instead, he found the bright beady eyes of a large fuzzy creature clinging to his second floor window, rattling the frame in a desperate attempt to, he assumed, get inside his house. The wind was fierce as the creature hunkered against it with a pitiful whine and ducked its head with a meekness that was almost heartbreaking. But Geoffrey wasn’t stupid enough to have a bleeding heart convince him to open his window to a strange beast.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum & Jonathan Reid, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Series: Mothman Jonny [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020633
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So as per usual, a random thought turned into a joke, turned into a serious fic series. So i hope you're ready for a Mothman AU with Mothman Jonny and Cryptid hunter Geoffrey. Similar to my series The Monster Under The Bed, this will be a series of interconnected oneshot installments.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I was encouraged by the lovely folks in the Pembroke Hospital Discord server, a server full of Vampyr fans of every walk of life, artists, writers, lurkers and roleplayers. All are welcome at the Pembroke Hospital!
> 
> https://discord.gg/z7jg6Gt

“Fucking weather.” Geoffrey hissed as he adjusted his headlamp. The bitter weather had dropped the temperatures once again, despite the warmer day that had him sweating in his workshop all afternoon. He had hoped it would hold out into the late evening, but once the sun tanked over the horizon, it progressively got colder. A light spit of rain was an ominous sign that Geoffrey fretted would derail his hunt, thankfully it held out, with the moon overcast, the grey light that had guided him on his long tiring walk had faded and he was forced to resort to other methods. The headlamp was a saving grace he was certain to thank Carl for, a funny little birthday gift a month prior that made him chuckle in their shared hobby, that had become a faithful friend for the cryptid hunter.

It wasn’t necessarily a _normal_ hobby, and in fact was often frowned upon if spoken about in less than a joking manner among social circles. The only solace he had in his interests was with Priwen, a small exclusive members only club that was rife with avid and extremely serious hunters like himself, currently run by his adoptive father, Carl Eldritch for about as long as Geoffrey could remember. The previous founder was an old hunting mate of Carl’s in their youth by the name of Kendall Stone, but the fellow enthusiast passed on shortly after Geoffrey came into the picture. It was an honest shame, Geoffrey had a few fond memories of the elder man stopping by to bring him souvenirs when he’d visit Carl, but the Irishman also recalled the oxygen tank he carted behind him on a regular basis and the god awful cough he would fall into for minutes at a time. Lung cancer had a habit of doing that.

Nonetheless, Geoffrey was amazed and enthralled with the tales the two men would tell him, most of which were heavily censored for adolescent ears, which he later heard the uncensored version in adulthood, and even shared a few of his own over a couple beers. He had followed Carl’s path both in hobby and in career, as he taught Geoffrey everything there was to know about Carpentry. Be it hunting elusive shadows on trail cams or laying wood to build a house, Geoffrey was proud to follow after his adoptive father and dutiful mentor.

Though, at the moment, pride did little to thaw his fingers of the slight chill that had settled right down to the bones, or dismiss the mist that had rolled across the lowlands. He had been following up on a lead involving a strange bird or bat like figure that had been spotted lurking near a back country road. There were some photographs of a dark outline with spots of glowing red that had been assumed to be eyes as the headlights struck them, shining menacingly back at the witness. Horrified and desperate to share this encounter, they took anonymously to a forum frequented by Geoffrey and the rest of Priwen. Most of the lads had other engagements with their families and couldn’t join him on his nightly adventure, so he set out to do it on his lonesome, which wasn’t too farfetched of an exploit. 

Normally he’d prefer to have a second set of eyes and ears, and Carl would probably tan his hide with how dangerous hunting alone could be, but he had only intended on wandering around for an hour to snoop before heading home. He had permission from the land owner to place a trail camera on a livestock fence, and another down their lane, but other than that, he had little else to do. Wandering a little bit before the sun set had turned into several hours of investigation as he searched the property for clues and signs, finding a few suspicious trails in the muck he had taken photographs of and cast one of the prints for later analysis. He collected a strange powder that had rubbed off on a tree but there was no sign of where it had come from. He wouldn’t have noticed it really had his headlamp not reflected upon it as it sparkled like crafting glitter. Closer inspection proved it was not a man made substance.

That was roughly two hours ago, if his watch was correct, and he had been wandering for what felt like all night without any further signs. He figured he’d do one last loop about the property and call it quits for the evening, head back to his truck and return in a few days to collect his cameras. The wind was picking up and the cold nip flushed his cheeks as he turned against the wind. He didn’t see the shadow until it was upon him, a sudden weight collided against his chest, causing Geoffrey to lose his balance, the headlamp was shoved off his face as something warm and soft met it. An animalistic sound rose like a shrill cry before the heavy weight that pinned him to the ground vanished in a scramble of motion. Too shocked to make sense of it, he rolled over onto his stomach, searching the dark for the retreating culprit but all he managed to catch was what he assumed may have been the hindquarters of a small deer.

His headlamp had landed face down on the ground a couple paces away, doing a grand old job of illuminating the dirt. He snatched at it quickly and directed it at the tree line but whatever it was was long gone. Cursing under his breath, Geoffrey dusted himself off with a grimace, growling to himself about the mud that caked onto his knees and the seat of his pants.

Least he wasn’t injured, he thought as he patted his pockets to find his phone. It was safe and sound in the durable military grade case, the screen lighting up to help him get a little more illumination as he searched his surroundings. The whip of cold air against his bare neck informed him of the startling absence of his red scarf. He patted at his neck, searching for the aforementioned item then looked around the lane for any signs of the sentimental red object.

“Did I seriously just get mugged by a damn deer?” He cursed, hoping if he came back in daylight he’d have a better chance of finding it. As bitter as the thought was of walking away, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. He was cold, wet and the night was dragging on. He feared that this was a sign and his luck was running low. Misfortune was a fickle presence and Geoffrey was at least mildly superstitious even though he’d never admit it aloud.

The walk back to his truck was uneventful, and he only paused once to check the trail camera that was nearest him once again, then headed for the vehicle. Climbing in, he was eager to crank the heat up and let his fingers thaw, turning his headlamp off, he set it in the passenger seat and reached for his thermos for a cup of hot coffee. He sipped at the drink while the engine warmed up, scrolling through his missed messages while the radio played quietly. When he could finally feel the heat rushing across his cheeks and the numbness faded from his hands, he closed his thermos and pulled out of the small back trail that ran parallel to a farmer’s field.

The drive back to the city was relatively quiet with only a few interruptions. One involved a rabbit that decided to play chicken with his truck, and the second had another deer that stood by and stared back at him with just as much confusion as Geoffrey hit the horn to spook it off. He heard an odd noise when he did so like something rattled against his truck, shooting a suspicious glance to his rearview mirror, he didn’t notice anything but the dark horizon behind him. Slowly inching past the deer, it wasn’t long until he hit the suburban outskirts of the city where his quaint little tudor house was nestled in between a series of snobby cookie cutter houses that all looked the same in gaudy pastel politeness.

He pulled up to park, grimacing as his aching back protested the decision to stand up again. His feet ached in his boots as he dragged them across the stone path leading up to his front door. The manicured flower beds were a bright splash of color against the stonework steps. He paused to greet the Cernunnos’ statue he kept on his front steps, tucked just inside the sheltering eaves of his porch as the Green Man stretched his arms up, mingling with his branch like antlers that bloomed flowers from their cradle. The hoofed legs are shoulder width apart, a Satyr like appearance that sported an impressive endowment that made his neighbors fluster and scowl at him. He snickered as he explained the beliefs surrounding the Green Lord and his blessings of prosperity and fertility. Now they wouldn’t be so rude as to insult his religious beliefs, would they? He had placed a kindly question before them, a double edged dagger they had no choice but to swallow. Of course, in truth, Geoffrey was Catholic. He only got the statue because O’Connor in Priwen got it for him as a gag birthday gift and he thought it was hilarious. Opposite it sat a lazy leprechaun, casually napping beneath a large mushroom with a woven Celtic knot design across the top. It was a bit smaller than Cernunnos but just as appealing in how it ruffled the feathers of his nosy neighbors.

The neighborhood had a funny rule about lawn ornaments and their placement, prohibiting them actually being on the lawn. Unlike his neighbors, Geoffrey got the keen idea that his porch was not a part of the lawn and therefore he was not forbidden from placing as many lawn statues as he pleased upon it.

He unlocked the door and stomped the mud off his boots before crossing the threshold. The house was dark and quiet, with only the kitchen light on to filter a soft ambient glow into the hallway leading to the entryway. He carried his lunch pack and thermos to the kitchen after hanging his coat up and kicking his boots off on the muck mat. He rolled through the motions, shooting a text to Carl as an afterthought to let him know he got in alright. He was certain the old man was already tucked into bed. Glancing at the clock, Geoffrey noted it was already two in the morning. The drive took a bit longer than expected, but it often did when he was tired.

Heading back towards the entryway hall, he was about to swing around to head up the steps when something reflective caught his eye. How he had managed to miss it before was beyond him, but with the light hitting over his shoulder, he noticed the same strange powder he had collected in the woods earlier that night had covered the front of his coat. Glancing down quickly at himself, he noticed the glittery trails where it had gotten onto his clothes, similarly to craft glitter, it was hard to spot until he was looking for it. Grabbing his phone quickly, Geoffrey took a few photographs to catalogue the strange powder for later. He hoped Carl would have some answers as to what it is exactly, a question he would ask tomorrow of course. He was too exhausted to continue following that train of thought. Setting his coat back on the hook, he dragged himself up the steps to his room to shower.

He made a mental note to toss his clothes into the washer before he turned in for the night, shucking them off with a quiet groan as he bent over, his limbs protesting between the long day spent tiling a kitchen floor to running around the woods chasing elusive creatures. He really should stop these late nights after work but as much as he grumbled and complained, he would be damned if he didn’t race out to a site as quickly as possible to investigate while the lead was fresh and the trail was hot. Especially when he knew idgits like Crossley and Throgmorton of all people were snooping around, the amateurs that they were.

Geoffrey had seen more than enough of their _ground breaking discoveries_ on their vlogger series to scoff and spit tacks about their idiocy. They were spooked by rabbits and chasing their own shadows like they were phantom people running away from them on camera, making absolute fools of themselves as they screamed, howled and acted worse than drunkards after too much booze and not enough wits about them. He recalled when they showed up to Priwen, separately at the time, in an attempt to join the club. Carl turned them away so fast it’d make their heads spin. As far as Geoffrey was concerned, you can’t fix stupid and these men were too set in their ways to recognize when they’re among professionals in the field. Their _I Believe_ mentality only got them so far if they refused to face facts, take logic and reasoning into account and approach every situation with a healthy dose of skepticism. Blurry photographs on someone’s social media site didn’t amount to much as evidence compared to local eye witness accounts, historical precedence, and even religious beliefs in the area.

Geoffrey was drawn from his thoughts as he scowled into his bathroom mirror while the shower ran to heat up. The steam had already started to fog it up, but it wasn’t enough to hide the growing bruise along one tender cheek, presumably where the deer had connected with him. His jaw was understandably stiff from the encounter, which he was grateful he had tomorrow off. Wouldn’t look pleasant walking into work looking like he took a hit in a pub brawl.

He shrugged it off and shuffled into the shower, letting the hot water revive his weary spirits a bit before he heads off to bed. He hoped to finally get some decent sleep tonight. This time of year was always the hardest as his thoughts turned to the unsavory memories of a childhood loss, a drastic change of his life that landed him in Carl’s care. Not that he was ungrateful for the kindness of the elder man, but he couldn’t help but wonder and it inevitably led to restless sleep, unrelenting thoughts rattling inside his brain and worst of all, though rare in recent years, nightmares.

He carded his fingers through his damp hair, drawing a stray leaf out of the way with a dryly amused laugh as he examined it thoughtfully. A bit of personal relief to unwind a bit more was the cap off for a longer than usual shower, smelling pleasantly of minty body wash, and feeling the weight of his aching muscles wearing him down, Geoffrey dragged a towel to dry off and headed back into his master bedroom. His bed was made, pristine and tucked into perfect alignment. A book was discarded on the nightstand with his reading glasses resting atop. His phone vibrated beside it as it updated him on the weather forecast. A storm was certainly coming as the wind rattled against the siding outside his window, a mournful howl that sent a shiver down the Irishman’s spine as he fished into his dresser drawer for a pair of boxers and sweatpants. When he turned back to face the bed, the towel resting around his shoulders, one hand still rubbing the dampness out of his hair and catching the stray cold drips now, he spied the source of the progressively more obnoxious rattling which had evolved into scraping sounds that were obscenely animalistic. 

Now, when Geoffrey imagined himself discovering the existence of something _other_ and _unique_ to humanity, he had imagined it with more finesse and extravagance, a bit more grandeur maybe? Was that too much to ask for? Instead, he found the bright beady eyes of a large fuzzy creature clinging to his second floor window, rattling the frame in a desperate attempt to, he assumed, get inside his house. The wind was fierce as the creature hunkered against it with a pitiful whine and ducked its head with a meekness that was almost heartbreaking. But Geoffrey wasn’t stupid enough to have a bleeding heart convince him to open his window to a strange beast. 

No, instead that bleeding heart convinced him to race down the stairs and run outside, unarmed, half dressed and barely pausing long enough to shove his boots on his bare feet and grab the emergency storm flashlight he kept in the hallway cabinet. Maybe he was hallucinating, or maybe he’d just hit his head a bit too hard, but Geoffrey swore there was what appeared to be a moth like creature outside of his bedroom window. Walking around the back, he shone the light on the siding of the house, looking for any sign of the creature and its presence. It was absent now, with nothing but the freezing chill of rain starting to fall creeping down his back and splattering his damp hair. He shivered, ground his teeth and forced himself to do a quick brisk loop around the house before heading back inside.

“You’re losing it, McCullum.” He hissed to himself as he locked the front door and took his boots off. A slow wiggle and shake to get the right one off all the way had him over balancing a bit and grabbing wearily for the wall. He returned the flashlight to its cabinet and headed for the steps, only to stop in his tracks as something moved in the peripheral of his vision. It was the odd shine and glimmer of the strange powder that caught his eye first, before he followed it to the hunched insectoid being standing in his living room.

Large beady eyes stared at him, glistening in the hallway light as it shuddered and shivered, shaking the dampness of the rain off onto the burgundy throw rugs that cushioned the dark wood floors. Wings as black as pitch with vibrant red spots like illusionary eyes gleaming back at him. Clasped in four paws almost lovingly was his red scarf he thought he’d lost in the woods earlier. The creature made a soft squeak towards the Irishman who felt like he had forgotten to breath until his lungs ached and his head started to spin. He forced himself to suck in a breath and grabbed for the stair railing to support himself before he dropped to sit on the lowest steps. His knees buckled as he went down gracelessly to rest against the bannister.

“What the fuck is happening?” He cursed, peering around the dividing wall as the meek creature gave another curious squeak and tilted its head at him. It took a step forward, its antennae brushing the ceiling causing it to stoop even lower to avoid the low hanging divider in the threshold. It was tall, slender with a humanoid stature, and an elongated fuzzy abdomen at the back and its massive wings folded neatly against its back. Four arms, two in the normal position he would expect for a human, and another set just below near the ribcage. It stood on its hind legs but looked oddly uncomfortable in this position as it peered around the room and preened at the ceiling light with vocalized joy.

He squinted up at the beast before his eyes fell back to the scarf which had obvious damage to it like something was _eating_ at the threads. He scowled, a sudden burst of frustration jolting some of his initial shock away as he blurted. “Did you eat my scarf?”

The creature looked startled by the outburst and shuffled back a quick step, tilting its head to the side as it hunched its shoulders timidly. It looked down at the scarf, fumbled with it through its fingertips thoughtfully as a rumbling gurgle sounded in what Geoffrey assumed was its belly. He couldn’t exactly tell from this angle. It looked reluctant to hand the article over when Geoffrey held his hand out expectantly but eventually relented and took it in hand. Its claws(?) wove together anxiously as it stared at the Irishman. Geoffrey inspected the damage and mentally estimated how much had been turned into a snack. Luckily it truly had just been the edges. He could fix that at least, he thought as he folded the article up in his lap. He rose to his feet as the creature continued to stand there and look at him like a stray animal begging for a hand out or some attention. Its antennae bobbed every time it moved its head, further unnerving Geoffrey who didn’t know any better on what to do with it either.

The creature seemed to figure out something as it turned around, searching the room with quiet contemplation before heading back into the living room. It wasn’t until he noticed where exactly it was gravitating towards that it dawned on him. The furnace had kicked in, causing a sudden warm rise in air flow throughout the room. The creature pinpointed one of the vents in the room and stood over it, its head tilting and peering around like it was thinking. Geoffrey could almost see the gears turning in its head before it chose to sit down on top of the vent of all things.

The muscle twitched in his neck with irritation as he watched it shuffle and shift uncomfortably to accommodate its elongated abdomen and legs. Eventually it started to change before his eyes, the insect portion smoothed out with a disturbing crunching noise, that he could only describe as similar to Carl cracking walnuts. The shell of its thorax and abdomen shattered into a dozen little pieces as the body receded and the hunched posture straightened up. Its wings rattled together, causing an unnerving sound that made Geoffrey nauseous to hear, its antennae smoothed back as the creature seemingly took on a more _human_ form and made an absolute mess of Geoffrey’s living room floor. There was fluff and dust and _skin peelings_ all over the polished hardwood.

_'Great.'_ He thought. This clearly had to be a hallucination of some sort. Maybe that powdery substance that had gotten on his clothes? Was it some drug someone was growing in the area? He sure as hell hoped not. The last thing he wanted was to land in the emergency room on top of everything else today.

_'Wait, that's it!'_ Geoffrey patted his pockets and cursed. Glancing between the preoccupied creature and the stairs at his back, he chanced a run up the steps in search of his cell phone. He leapt over his bed, ignoring how the blankets scattered into an unkempt mess and fumbled to grab his phone. He raced down the steps as quickly as his legs allowed without the risk of falling and breaking his neck, pulling up the camera feature. Geoffrey was relieved the creature hadn't left its spot and to his even greater relief (and somewhat horror) it showed up in the picture he had taken of it.

"Fuck!" Geoffrey hissed. At least if it was a hallucination, he could ignore it and other people weren't at risk of seeing what his insanity had wrought. But now, he had to deal with a living breathing creature, the likes of which he had never seen before or even had the slightest inkling of what to do with. His hand twitched, eager to call Carl or shoot him the text message, but some nagging thought drew it back with uncertainty.

"If I don't know what to do with it, other people won't either." He mumbled to himself, turning his blue eyes on the humanoid figure now curled up on the floor in the fetal position as it tried to dry its fur using the air vent. "Its too stupid not to get itself hurt." He grumbled and combed his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh.

He clapped his hands gently, drawing its attention at the startling noise. "I can't believe I'm doing this." He cursed himself before speaking up. "Come on, follow me." Clicking his tongue he waved the creature over. It rose to its knees with an apprehensive tilt of its head before slowly approaching the Irishman.

"That's it. Good boy. Come on." Geoffrey continued, assuming by the humanoid appearance it took on that it was male. A very naked humanoid male, with its prick hanging out and an extra set of arms. Okay, first things first, clothes. He refuses to occupy the same room with it any longer until it's clothed.

It took a bit of wrangling, but Geoffrey managed to slowly lure the beast up the steps to his bedroom where he could find it some clothes that fit. Its legs were a bit awkward, even for a human, the skin was a dark grey with scales over the feet. A thick layer of what looked like human body hair covered its chest, arms, thighs and legs. As Geoffrey urged it to put a pair of sweatpants on, his palm brushed some of it and was surprised to find it was much softer than most body hair. It's antennae perked up, curling at the back of its head where it was nestled in the long soft feathery black locks, fading into the dark messy hair enough to not be as noticeable. As long as they stop twitching and moving.

The creature squeaked and clicked at him as Geoffrey stood up, his hands busy with bunching up the large worn out hoodie he usually wore on chilly work days. It was large, grey and stained in places with paint of various colors. The sleeves were so worn out that the cuffs had holes and the draw strings around the neck were completely frayed and knotted up. He had to physically take the creature by the hand, (pausing to gawk at the very human hands it had now) and direct them up into the sleeves. The beast made concerned noises when Geoffrey placed the neckline around its head but once it was dressed the initial shock it suffered wore off and it just stood there, holding itself as it patted and pet the material with shrill squeals and energetic clicks.

Geoffrey winced at the sharp sounds and coaxed it across the hallway to the guest bedroom. He checked to make sure the window was locked, drew the blinds and curtains, and scanned the room quickly. There wasn't much to it. A simple twin bed, a nightstand and a dresser. The overhead light was the only light source which he kept on, amused at how it preoccupied the creature. There was a wool throw blanket on the bed for additional warmth and the furnace was already heating the room up so he hadn't anymore reason to concern himself with the beast. He promptly shut the door, locked it, then made his way back to his own bedroom, which he then locked the door of and shoved his desk chair under the knob to prevent the beast from getting inside after him in the night. 

Sleep eluded him for a couple hours as he was drawn back from the edges of blissful escape by the occasional shrieks and clicks of the creature. Sometime around 5am, it fell completely silent and with it, Geoffrey finally succumbed to sleep. 

He awoke in a mad scramble at noon when his phone vibrated loudly on his bedside table. His heart leapt into his throat causing him to sit bolt upright and glare at the offending device. Even more frustrating was the fact it was a Priwen group chat. Of all the things he wanted to be woken up by, a photoshopped image of Sasquatch's tits was not one of them and he's seriously considering blocking Babic and Bonner's numbers.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he groggily peered around his room to find the security measures are still in place. He decided to dig out his cricket bat from the closet before venturing out of the room. With the weapon of choice at the ready, he removed the chair from its spot and slowly cracked the door open just enough to peer into the hall. The coast was clear and the guest bedroom door was still shut. He carefully crept out of the room and gave the knob a test turn. _Locked._ Good, he thought.

He took a moment to steel himself before unlocking the door, it creaked quietly causing him to stiffen as it opened. He peeked between the crack to search for the creature. The room was pretty much the same as he left it, aside from the wool blanket which was missing from the bed. He opened the door a little further, noticing no sign of the creature. He frowned, stepping into the room now as he looked and spotted the wool blanket peeking out from behind the bed. He held the cricket bat at the ready and kept a wide berth as he came around the bed frame to find the beast was hunkered down on the floor, partially wedged beneath the bed to get at the heating vent underneath. The hood of the sweater shirt was drawn up over its face as it slept, the wool blanket partially draped over its body.

Geoffrey scowled as a thought occurred to him. He could have sworn that blanket was much bigger. He recalled being able to cocoon himself up in it in the winter months while he was up late. Confused, he stepped closer and noticed the little white fibers that covered the ground and clung to the static of the creature's body. Well, the blanket _was_ much bigger. Not so much anymore as it appeared to have been half eaten.

Geoffrey stared at it in contemplation, giving the beast's foot a gentle nudge with the bat. Its toes curled in response as the creature whistled softly in its chest, a groggy refusal as it curled back up again. Deciding to be a bit more bold, Geoffrey set the bat aside and crouched beside the beast, reaching a hand over to pull at the hood. It drew back, leaving a static mess of its hair as it stood in every which direction.

In the bright light of the room, he had to admit, it looked pretty human. There was of course a few variations that proved it was not, but the resemblance was pretty accurate for the upper half. Its body hair was about as soft as its fur, especially where a scruffy unkempt beard grew on its jaw and around its neck. It was shorter than Geoffrey expected. Its skin had a sickly pallor to it, like it had never seen the sun before, and a slight greyish undertone around the eyes made them look sunken and sleep deprived. Other than that, he was strong and fit. The intelligence of the creature appeared to be up in the air at the moment, but Geoffrey got the feeling so far that it was harmless. The only thing it was a threat to was natural fiber blankets and clothing.

"I'm assuming yer the one that ran into me last night." Geoffrey hummed, still feeling the slight ache in his jaw from where he assumed now, the creature may have headbutted him. At least it was better than the previous assumption that he got mugged by a damn deer.

He wasn't expecting an answer but the creature started to stir and opened the palest blue eyes Geoffrey had ever seen, peering back at him before it yawned and stretched its limbs. He forgot about the second set of arms and startled a little as the midsection of the hoodie started to move. The second set of hands reached underneath and flexed similarly.

"Ya aren't the _Good Neighbors_ but I'm not fool enough to disrespect a uh _guest_ by neglecting to offer breakfast." He chuckled as his eyes flickered to the digital clock and noted it was half past noon. "Eh, I'm feeling like waffles fer lunch."

Geoffrey stood up and noticed the confused head tilt of the creature. Waving his hand at the beast, he clicked his tongue. "Com'on. Let's go."

There was a delayed reaction as the creature processed what Geoffrey was trying to say. The Irishman was patient nonetheless and waited for it to figure out what he was saying, nodding in approval when it climbed to its feet. Geoffrey had to pry what was left of the blanket from its grasp and laid it back on the bed. Taking it by the wrist, he pulled it out of the room, leading it down the stairs to the kitchen. He pointedly ignored the mess on his living room floor, mentally reminding himself to vacuum and sweep later, as they headed for breakfast.

Making waffles was simple once he got the creature to sit on the barstool properly and wait for him. Twice he caught it sliding off of the seat and crawling around on the floor, causing him to startle when he felt a head nudge the back of his legs. He set a kettle on the burner to make a cup of tea, a curious thought popped into his head as he poured one for himself and one for the creature. A dollop of honey, a bit of sugar and an ice cube to cool it, then set it before the beast.

He wasn't expecting the long proboscis to unfurl from its mouth, wide eyed and shocked, Geoffrey stared as it eagerly drank up the tea as if it were sucking with a straw. It searched the bottom of the cup for every last sweet drop. Geoffrey was reminded by the smell of the waffles getting a little too well done to check on them, a quick fumble to lift the lid on the waffle iron in time to save them. This batch wasn't as fluffy as he hoped but eh, he'll still eat it. He used a fork to pop them out of the mold and set them on a plate before pouring the new batch. Personally, he liked putting a little bit of nutmeg and cinnamon in the batter for that little extra flair. The decision was rewarded with a decadent smell that filled the kitchen.

He turned away from the iron for a minute as he started to clean up the mess, and returned to the sound of crunching. 

"Well, I guess you're just one great big garbage disposal at this point." Geoffrey chuckled as the creature munched away at the waffles. The Irishman had the thought to catch the creature's hand as it held the waffle up like a biscuit and poured a little bit of maple syrup on the edges. "Try that." He urged as he let go.

It sniffed at it, eyes widening as a series of clicks emanated from its chest before taking the biggest bite its human mouth could. Geoffrey was mildly concerned it might choke at this point but it survived after the initial swallow. He leaned against the counter, a smile spread on his face in amusement as it reached for the maple syrup once more. Geoffrey had to intervene when the creature looked hell bent on putting the entire bottle on the waffle and set it on his side of the table.

"You're getting it all over yer beard." He sighed, giving a small shake of his head. "A bath should be in order after this." He glanced at his kitchen and ticked off the series of several other messes he would need to clean up from the beast.

"Hm, I need somethin tae call ya by if yer staying here." He drawled and tapped his fingers on the counter as the seconds ticked by on the iron's timer. It beeped at him loudly as he unlocked the latch and opened it up, greeted by the aroma of pleasant steam filling his nostrils. 

The creature didn't seem too enthralled with what Geoffrey was rambling about. Its attention was fixed solely on the fresh waffles he had placed on the plate. He gave the creature one more with a light drizzle of maple syrup along with a handful of napkins. He doubted the beast knew how to use them but at least it would catch the drip spots on the counter.

"Most folk with no names get labeled John's. Ya look more like a Jonny to me but that's more my opinion." Geoffrey huffed as he poured the last of the batter over the hot iron and set the dishes in the sink, letting the faucet run over them and fill the bowl before he shut it off. "What do you think about that? Do you like it, Jon?"

The responding chirp sounded like a firm approval to Geoffrey. "Jon it is."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I got talked into a part 2 to follow up the first chapter and so here it is. 
> 
> It took a bit of time to write, got side tracked by AC Valhalla so my writing schedule will slow.

The Irishman was soaked right up to the elbows, sleeves shoved up as high as they could go to avoid the suds and splashing as he wrestled the moth creature into a bath. The last time Geoffrey has had to do this was when he had to give Carl’s hounds, Guinness, Whiskey and Milkball baths after they ran amok in a bog one chilly Autumn evening. They’d been out hunting partridge for supper. Milkball was as rambunctious as her mother and grandmother, a spitball of white fur with as much mischief as one can fit in such a small body. She was smaller than the average German Shepherd, a trait from her spaniel father. Geoffrey fondly recalled the days of caring for her grandmother, a white german shepherd female as pretty as a winter’s dream and as soft as cotton, recently abandoned after she lost her pups.

Carl had taken him to the shelter after his own distressing loss, and thought a pup would brighten the teen’s days. Geoffrey had to admit, he was right. She was about as sad as he was, head hanging and mopey as she refused to touch her food bowl. The staff worried she would be put down if she refused to eat, and he felt the pain she was feeling. She was a mother without her pups, and he was a pup without a mother. They clicked and he fell in love with the gentle soul that came waltzing into his life on four paws.

He felt, in some small manner, that he could give back that nurturing favor she had done for him, offering it to the strange rascal that had flown into his life now. Though giving old Charlotte and her granddaughter, Milkball a bath was infinitely easier than trying to wash Jon and get the sticky maple syrup out of his hair.

The water was only a couple inches deep for starters, just to get Jon accustomed to the strange sensation. He seemed fascinated with the running warm water which evolved into him sticking out his proboscis to slurp up the very same liquid he was bathing in. Geoffrey had to nudge the body part out of the way and lightly scold him to stop that. He was rewarded with a grumpy chirp, which Geoffrey dismissed, until the warm water ended up splashing him in the face, soaking his hair and the collar of his shirt. He scowled at the creature before promptly dumping the full plastic pitcher he had been using to gently rinse the moth creature down, over his head.

The efforts did not cease until both were thoroughly soaked through, in need of numerous towels and fresh dry clothing. With Jon bundled back up in a new sweatshirt and Geoffrey in a clean pair of sweatpants, he made a cup of tea for the both of them while he prepared the blow dryer to finish drying them both off. Jonny was hesitant towards the loud noise but after it ran for a few minutes, and he watched Geoffrey use it on himself until his hair was a fluffy consistency, he relented and let him work. He used a comb to pick around Jon’s antennae, careful not to catch them in the teeth of the object. It didn’t stop the warm air from tickling the sensitive fibers that had the moth creature wiggling and squirming on the barstool. His eyes fluttered shut as a series of excited noises left his chest, squealing and high pitch to the Irishman’s ears. He worried something was wrong and stopped several times to check on the creature only to be met with it headbutting his chest gently and wrapping all four arms around Geoffrey. It crooned in delight, its sweatshirt ridden up its chest to expose the thick damp dark chest hair that was impossibly soft and plush against Geoffrey’s own bare torso.

“Easy there Jon.” Geoffrey patted his hair in reassurance and brushed his fingers back through it to smooth it over. The creature’s four arms were long and lanky as they hung around his hips, only unraveling slowly when the Irishman started to step away to set the blow dryer aside and unplug it from the wall.

He wasn't certain if the strange creature could understand him but Geoffrey found it at least acted like it understood his tone if only with a small nudge of persuasion along the way. Once Jon was cleaned up, the Irishman took a moment to assess his current predicament. He had, what was essentially, a strange and fantastical creature within his house. A creature that Geoffrey had spent his entire life trying to prove the existence of in some small way and now? Now he felt out of place in the knowledge that he couldn't by any form of good conscience, share this bewildering discovery out of fear for Jon's safety in the aftermath. If anyone found out…

The horrendous thought was left unfulfilled as Geoffrey turned his attention back to the squirming bundle at his side and helped adjust Jon's clothing back into proper order.

"You need to go home, Jon." Geoffrey sighed. "You belong back there, not…. cooped up like a human."

The creature was unbothered by the declaration, instead fixating its attention on Geoffrey as it nuzzled its head against his navel shamelessly in friendly affection. Geoffrey indulged him for a moment as he stroked the palm of his hand over its head and shook his own head in disbelief. He couldn’t necessarily return to the land in broad daylight, so the rest of the day was spent cleaning up the mess the creature had left behind the night prior, sweeping up the pieces from his molt and vacuuming the floors of all the sparkly dust that remained. By the time lunch rolled around, he had spent the morning being trailed after by the creature like it were a puppy nipping gently at his heels, until the hungry growls started once more.

A cup of tea was made to hold the creature over while Geoffrey made them sandwiches which Jon stared at in confusion. His head tilted to the side, blinking at the plate the Irishman had placed before him. Jon picked at the wheat bread, peeling the crust away as he wrinkled his nose and turned his attention back on the waffle iron that sat on the kitchen counter still.

“What’s wrong with it?” Geoffrey asked around the bite of his own turkey sandwich. His gaze followed Jon’s causing him to snort. “This is kind of like a waffle. Give it a try.” He nudged the plate towards him again and made a show of how to eat it.

Jon stared at it once more, picking the sandwich apart and scrunching his nose up at the soggy condiments attached to the bread. He did eat the crusts where nothing had tainted, Geoffrey noticed and sighed in defeat.

“What do you like to eat?” A good question. What did moths like to eat? Other than his clothing and sweet waffles that is. The problem is, he didn’t exactly have someone he could ask on the topic. Well, he did, to some extent, but in doing so would force him to expose Jon’s presence and that could endanger the creature.

Jon was adamant about the waffle iron, squeaking at him determinedly as he reached for it, nearly ripping the plug out of the wall socket in the process before Geoffrey could catch him. He took it from the creature’s grasp and set it back on the counter, defeated by the demands of the beast.

“Alright, I’ll make you more waffles.” He avoided the necessity for syrup by pouring honey into the batter along with the nutmeg and cinnamon, his teeth ached already just thinking about how sickly sweet it all would be. Replacing the thought instead with the rest of his sandwich, taking bites in between while he waited for it to cook. He dug into his pantry for a box of salted wheat crackers pouring a few onto his plate when Jon noticed the new item with a curious chirp. 

“Want one?” They were a small square cracker meant for dips but Geoffrey liked them as a substitute for chips, passing one off to the creature, he watched it examine the new item. His antennae bobbed, a strange clicking noise followed before he started to nibble on the corner for a taste. Seemingly pleased with it by the way it suddenly inhaled the cracker in one bite, Geoffrey passed Jon another and chuckled.  _ So breads and grains are fair game.  _ Good to know.

Jon was excited when the first two waffles were finished cooking, piping hot and fresh from the griddle, his antennae bobbed with his head as he sat by for Geoffrey to place them on a plate. There was a brief concern for the creature's fingers when Jon reached for it with little regard for how hot it was, a small whine edged out of his chest when they drew away quickly, too hot to be handled. Geoffrey made a quick fix for the issue by placing the plate inside his refrigerator freezer for a minute before passing them back over to the creature where Jon happily munched away at his lunch.

Three more batches followed before Geoffrey could start cleaning up. Jon appeared sated and content with a belly full of waffles, and a bowl full of his stolen crackers that he nibbled on in passing. The rest of the day was rather lazy as they waited until evening. Dinner came and went as Geoffrey repeated the waffle request and made a small frozen pizza for himself. He leaned against the counter and shook his head in disbelief.

"I don't know how yer not sick of them yet." He sighed. Having them once a week was too much for him to handle, and yet the creature managed to consume them three times in one day in a quantity that would make the Irishman sick to his stomach alone. Of course he added little things here and there, sneaking some grapes in on the side from his fridge which Jon inhaled with a snort and a breathy honk in his throat. A noise that stirred a laugh from the Irishman as he handed over the cooled waffles and paused to retrieve his own dinner as the oven timer chirped at him noisily.

Afterwards, he changed into outdoor wear and packed the moth creature up into his truck, which he discovered very quickly how Jon followed him home the moment he noticed the creature climbing into the tail bed of it. There was the same shimmering dust that covered his equipment from the moth's large wings. He had to quickly usher him instead to climb into the front passenger seat where Geoffrey buckled the seatbelt over his waist and spoke sternly. 

"Do not touch anything." He warned.

Jon looked confused as he tilted his head. The hood of the borrowed sweatshirt hid his antennae from view but allowed the creature to peer out at the world as it passed by. The drive back out to the country felt far longer as they chased the dying light of sunset along the countryside until darkness became a thick blanket shrouded in the rolling mists from the lowlands creeping across the roads. Geoffrey carefully navigated their way back down the dirt roads that led to the farm he had previously encountered Jon at. As strange as it was returning to the farm, Geoffrey felt this sense of unease as they rolled to a stop and parked in the opening of the two track path near the fence posts in which he placed his first camera. He drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel with an anxious motion as he searched the darkened treeline that stared back at him with an ominous glint on the foggy paths, which was made more haunting by the beams of his headlights.

Jon chirped noisily at his side as his fingers fought with the seatbelt to free himself to which Geoffrey leaned over and released for him. There was a perplexed pause as Jon stared for just a moment more before trying to open the door with a useless shove. Geoffrey chuckled and came around the side to free the mildly irritated creature, allowing him to slip out of the truck and creep towards the fence line. 

To Geoffrey's surprise, Jon would pause on the path and wait for the Irishman to catch up, his antennae freely bobbing now as the hood slipped back to rest on his shoulders. He crooned with excitement, an invigorating spring in his step as if some part of him ached to shed his human shape and fly off. He looked as if he could barely contain himself until Geoffrey gestured for him to go ahead.

"You're home now, Jon. Go on." He urged. The creature gave a strange tilt of its head before pulling the hoodie free of its limbs and shedding the sweatpants. He laid both on the fence post closest to him, standing nude in the night. Geoffrey could only make out the shadows along his limbs beneath the moonlight as his human skin started to crack and peel away.

Jon let out a humming that spread across his body and caused an ache to stir in Geoffrey's head at the higher frequency of sound. A brief wave of nausea rolled in his stomach, causing him to sway unsteadily in place the longer he focused on the creature. The pale white layers fell like ash from Jon's body, revealing the glossy ebony flesh beneath, the hard and smooth thorax that shielded his torso. Wings split down his back and emerged like blossoms opening after a spring thaw, lovely in their pitch as the light caught the startling red eyes on them.

It made sense now why folks mistook his appearance in their reports. The red eyed demon they'd witness was just Jon, presumably flying past. The eerie glow was as unsettling as it was beautiful, to which Geoffrey was in total awe of the creature before him. What other wonders lie hidden in these lands? How many fantastical stories of folklore and mythology were steeped in these unreached truths?

It boggles the mind as much as it brought Geoffrey sorrow to know this encounter was brief and would be a memory, fleeting as it were, that he would cherish alone for the rest of his life. 

Looking more like the monster that clung to his window the night before, Jon stooped, hunched by the curve of his true form as he approached Geoffrey with a slight tilt of his head and gave him what he assumed to be a smile, eerie as it was from the less than human face.

"It has been a wild encounter but I am glad to have met you." Geoffrey offered softly, and he meant it. Being able to see such a thing of such beauty that was equally as terrifying to those unwitting to the treasures beyond what human eyes could perceive. To have that confirmation, to know he was right all along and have that truth nestled firmly in his heart gave him a sense of contentment and the desire to protect this cherished secret with every fiber of his being.

This was truly a wondrous gift. One he will never forget or take for granted. There was a bittersweet pang of grief in his heart in the knowledge that he would miss the chance to find out more about Jon and where he came from but this was for the best.

Appearing content, Jon flexed his wings and spread them wide before taking to the air in a stir of dust and leaves. He rose suddenly and swiftly vanished into the dark skyline with only the briefest glimmer of those ruby red eyes on his wings shining back before they blinked out of view. Geoffrey sighed heavily, scratched the back of his neck and carried on with collecting his cameras.

The night was cold, colder than most as of late which he suspected was due to the recent rainy weather that made certain areas muddy and hard to navigate where water settled on the earth in large puddles. He skirted carefully around them, picking his steps lightly with his headlamp guiding him along the thicket of trees. In the distance he could hear a cow calling from its pen and the idle songs of crickets playing an eerie ambiance to his solitary adventure.

With the cameras in hand, the trip back to his truck was a long one as he slipped and slid in the damp grass and nearly caused himself to fall into one particularly large puddle. He grappled the surrounding tree branches to stabilize himself as he reached the clearing. His straight line back to the fence to collect Jon's clothes was halted in confusion. He stared around the clearing, scanning the posts for any signs of the missing fabric. That maybe he overlooked it and it was somewhere else?

He was startled when he noticed the lone figure perched in the passenger seat of his truck. The eager creature dressed and huddled up, and somehow managed to turn the vehicle  _ on  _ on it's own. As Geoffrey approached through the driver's side, he opened the door to find Jon huddled inside his hoodie with the heaters cranked up all the way and music blasting. The windshield wipers were on high and he managed to somehow turn on the GPS which was currently giving Geoffrey directions to a pizzeria in the city.

"Jon?" Geoffrey blurted startled. The creature, returned to its human appearance, was nestled snug in the seat and tilted its head in confusion.

"You don't gotta stay with me. You can go home. You're free to do as you please." The Irishman gestured enthusiastically back towards the forest. Jon's pale eyes followed the motion to the woods then returned back to Geoffrey, to which he very pointedly grabbed the seatbelt and drew it across his chest and clicked it into place. The Irishman couldn't tell if this was an intelligent decision on the moth being's part or a choice made by a desire to mimic Geoffrey's past actions but he was puzzled and amused all at once.

Giving into the eagerly demanding squeaks by Jon, Geoffrey was defeated by the determined look in the creature's eyes and submitted. Placing the cameras in the backseat for later, he climbed into his truck, turned off the windshield wipers and turned down the heater while he toyed with his GPS. While mumbling to himself how the moth even managed to turn it on in the first place was beyond him, let alone figuring out how to get it to give directions. It took Geoffrey a week to manage it himself with an instruction guide and a history of being tech savvy.

"Last chance to leave, Jon." Geoffrey told him as he placed his hands on the steering wheel. Jon just folded his arms over his chest and stared ahead at the road.

"So be it." Geoffrey let a small smile play on his lips as he entertained the thought. "You appear to be a man-er moth that knows what he wants when he wants. I'm going to assume the GPS was accidental but now that the thoughts in my head, I could go fer some pizza."

He hummed to himself as he started to navigate their way back down the muddy road. "They sell salads and cinnamon bread too. I'm sure we'll find ya something you like. Who knows, maybe you'd like cheese pizza." 

There was a responding chirp and if in agreement from the creature, causing Geoffrey to glance over at the cozy puddle of warmth that was melting in his passenger seat. He couldn't tell if it was because of the recent change but Jon looks particularly more fluffy than before. Though Geoffrey's attention was quickly turned to the seat covered in the weird shimmering dust particles that coated the floor and head rest. Heaving a heavy breath, he shook his head and pulled out onto the main road, making their way back to the city. 

**Author's Note:**

> Jonathan's mothman design is based on a species of moth native to the UK known as a Cinnabar moth with its signature red spots on its black wings and they are very fuzzy and soft.


End file.
